Look Up and Live
I’d passed the yellow figure a hundred times,
barely noticing its blocky body pointing skyward,
a silent, watchful guardian glued to a pole,
its words half-warning, half-command:
“LOOK UP AND LIVE.”
It seemed dramatic at first,
like one of those signs that said Danger!
but only guarded a puddle
or a loose stair.
But today I stop beneath it, crane my neck,
and squint at the web of wires overhead,
strung tight, tangled high—
a spider’s trap set for the too-casual,
the heads-down, the distracted.
There’s irony in the sign’s wisdom:
so much of life we miss,
faces glued to screens, eyes downcast,
lost in scrolls and streams,
yet here’s this figure begging us—
Look up!
I imagine its silent life,
pointing always upward,
pleading with the people who pass by,
watching their lives rush on below.
Tomorrow, it knows, someone will look up
just a little too late.
And so, it stands there still,
forever pointing at a sky
that no one bothers to see.
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